Too Bad You're Beautiful

My son recently told my wife and I about his first crush. Understandably, my wife was gushing as she was saying our little boy was finally growing up. With that said, my son was a bit put off by his mother sobbing so melodramatically over something that might not even manifest into a real relationship. God only knows how many idle crushes I had before I got into my first relationship. My wife hasn't been able to shut the fuck up at the dinner table about whether or not Sarah reciprocated his feelings, so I feel like now's as good a time as any to have a man-to-man talk with Keith. I walk upstairs to Keith's room and I knock on the door.

“Come in!”

“Hey Keith, got a minute?”

“Sure. I was gonna turn off my Xbox anyway because I kept getting ganked.” I grab a seat on the chair by his desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his binder open and there are hearts sketched into the margins of his notes. Oh Lord, he's at that phase. I let out a deep sigh and turn myself to face him.

“So... I see you really like this girl, huh?”

“Oh come on, Dad!” he groaned as he put his Xbox controller on the nightstand next to his bed. “I get enough of that spiel from Mom, do you really have to join in?”

“Relax, Keith. I'm not here to prod you about whether or not she's dating you yet.” I get up to shut the door and lock it behind me. “I just wanna talk to you about this stuff like an adult. I locked the door so that your mother can't barge in here and butt into the conversation.”

“That still doesn't stop her from listening at the goddamn door.”

“Keith, I promise you that I'll talk to your mother about respecting your privacy. Believe me, my parents pulled the same shit on me and I couldn't stand it either.”

He opens up his backpack and pulls out a bag of Cheetos. He offers me one and I gladly accept; I'm a sucker for Flamin' Hot even though they give me heartburn nowadays. We sit in silence for a few minutes as he's munching on his chips, but I don't prod him to talk about his crush. If anything, I want him to have the first word because it'll make him feel a bit more comfortable.

“You really ain't leaving until I spill the beans, huh?”

“Oh please, what kind of father/son relationship do you think we have?” I chuckled as I grab his binder and hand it back to him. “You know, I can recall a time when I used to sketch hearts and scrawl my crush's name on the margins of my notebook when I was your age.”

“And lemme guess, Mom turned out to be your crush the whole time and she said yes after I asked her out, huh?” His sarcasm is biting, but I laugh it off as I roll the chair closer to him so that we're both about a foot across from one another.

“Promise me you won't tell your mother what I'm about to tell you,” I said with a hushed voice; not quite a whisper but low enough so that it sounds like mumbling if my wife is listening from the door. I extend my pinky out to him, to which he wraps his pinky around mine.

“I promise, Dad.”

“Your mother wasn't my first love, not even by a long shot. I met her in our freshman year of college, but I can tell you that she wasn't my first crush, not even my first relationship.”

“Holy fucking shit,” he whispered as his eyes widened with shock. “But Mom always told me that you were her first and only boyfriend.”

“Yeah... there's a reason why I don't tell her anything about my life before college,” I chuckled before recomposing myself. “Don't get me wrong, I love your mother to death but I'd be lying through my teeth if I said that she was the only woman I ever had a crush on.”

“So... who was your first crush? If you tell me, I'll tell you everything about Sarah.”

“Only if you promise me that anything I tell you stays between us. I know you always complain about how your mother doesn't respect your privacy, and I'll only respect yours if you respect mine.” I extend my hand out for a handshake that Keith reciprocated. “Capisce?”

“Capisce.” He repositions himself in his bed so that he's more comfortable. Similarly, I lean the chair back a little bit so that I'm not hunched over.

“My first crush was in 10th grade: a Mexican girl named Crystal. We shared the same homeroom and sat at the same table. Funny thing is that I didn't really have a crush on her at first; she was more like an acquaintance than a friend, or even a crush for that matter.”

“So what got you to like her in the first place?”

“Honestly? It was how approachable and friendly she was to me at the time. I was bullied hard in high school and didn't really have many friends,” I sighed before taking another Cheeto out of his bag. “I remember when she stuck up for me when I was about to get my ass kicked by some SOB. That was the moment when I “imprinted” on her, so-to-speak.” Keith chuckles to himself briefly before handing me a napkin from his backpack to wipe the Cheeto dust off my fingers. I feel like I struck a chord with him, to which I let out a slight smile. “What's so funny?”

“Nah, it's just your story kinda reminds me of mine so far. I dunno how it'll end though, so please continue.”

“You have no idea how much that act of kindness meant to me. Like... I can't even come up with words to describe it. I was an antisocial loser in high school and yet she still made the effort to defend me when no one else would. How else was I supposed to react at the time? I knew that I liked her right then and there, but here's the rub: I was too much of a chickenshit coward to tell her that.” Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that he sighed and started squirming a little. “Long story short, I kinda became her shadow. Wherever she went whenever we didn't share a class, I tagged along. Of course, her friends hated my guts because they thought I was a stalker. I mean... they weren't wrong upon retrospect, I'll tell you that much.”

“So... why did you keep chasing after her if her friends hated you and you admitted to being kinda stalkerish?” I sighed and leaned forward so that my face was right next to his ear. I take great care to whisper so that my wife can't potentially overhear this.

“Because she was the only person who noticed me and didn't treat me like shit. Social isolation does weird things to a kid when you're growing up. When I “imprinted” on her, I developed this weird sense of tunnel vision where all I could think about was her. Looking back? It was pretty fucking unhealthy and scary at the same time. Of course, I wouldn't have listened to you if you told me that when I was your age.”

Keith and I sit in awkward silence for a few seconds before he takes a water bottle out of his backpack. After taking a swig, he passes me the bottle to take a sip. All this talk about the past combined with the Cheetos I ate is giving me heartburn, so the water helps abate that somewhat.

“Uh... I think you might be getting to it, but I wanna know: how did it end?”

“Not well, to say the goddamn least. If your mother ever tries to dress you up on Valentine's Day and gives you a plastic rose to hand her, do yourself a favour and don't fucking do that shit. I did all that stuff of my own volition and I fessed up to her on Valentine's Day of that school year... thing is, I put her on the spot and when she said “no,” I ran out of the cafeteria embarrassed. What I didn't realise is that she got a lot of shit for curving me because I made such a grand gesture out of it, and so she got really fucking cold to me in homeroom after the fact. Even after I apologised to her, she remained distant and we weren't really “friends” after the fact.”

“Oh my God... that's... that's so fucking sad, dude.” Keith reaches out to give me a hug and I'm awestruck at this. He hasn't voluntarily hugged me since before he started high school. “Is there more?”

“Well, she transferred schools and I still kept getting bullied in my junior and senior years. I dated a girl named Jenny for a bit in my senior year, but that's a story for a different time.” I cleared my throat and got up to stretch so that my leg wouldn't fall asleep on me. “Now it's your turn. What's your deal with Sarah?”

“Well... I guess you can say I'm in the same boat you were in. Only, I'm not really getting bullied and I haven't really thought about fessing up to her.”

“Why is that?”

“Mostly because every time I think about it, I get so afraid that she'll reject me. I've tried twice to talk to her, but every time I just get cold feet and blurt out something completely random. I think she knows that I have a crush on her, but I just can't bring myself to say it to her face. It's aggravating, honestly...” I reach out and put my hand on Keith's shoulder.

“So let me ask you this: do you think of her as a friend, first and foremost?”

“Yes, but I don't want her to stop being my friend if I tell her that I like her, y'know?”

“Okay, so here's an idea. Give me a sheet of paper and I'll write down exactly what you should tell her.”

“Come on Dad, don't tell me that you're gonna be my ghostwriter.”

“No, I'm not telling you to text this to her now. I'm writing this shit down so that you'll remember what to say when the time comes for you to properly tell her how you feel, now hand me a piece of paper.”

Keith hands me a piece of paper and a pen from his backpack. I roll the chair over to his desk so that I can have a surface to lean on while I'm writing. I take care to make sure my handwriting is legible enough so that he doesn't say the wrong thing entirely. After a few minutes, I hand him the note that I wrote. I urge him to read it.

“Hey Sarah, I know this is kinda random but I just wanted to let you know that I have a crush on you. I'm not expecting you to feel the same way and if you don't, that's 100% okay. You're my friend first and foremost, and nothing will ever change that...” He sits in silence for a bit before looking up at me. “Dad, do you really think this will work? I mean... it's kind of a lie because I want her to like me back.“I

“Okay, but what do you want more? Do you want her to be your friend for the foreseeable future or were you only ever interested in her because you wanted her to be your girlfriend?” He raises his finger to say something, but he starts stuttering before he could form a cogent sentence. “Lemme put it to you like this: there's a 50/50 shot of her liking you back no matter what. If she likes you, then fucking great! Bring her over to the house, we'll treat you both to dinner, make a whole day out of it. If she doesn't like you back, well it'll suck at first but at least this way, you still maintain a meaningful friendship. Also, if she has some cute friends of her own, maybe she can set you up if shit doesn't work out between you two.”

We both chuckled at that little quip. Keith puts the note away in his folder. As I'm about to walk out of the room, Keith gets out of his bed and gives me a hug from behind. I turn around and hug him back.

“Wanna go downstairs for dinner? Your mother's making some new chicken recipe that she got off a YouTube video.”

“Sure, let's go!”

I know I worry deeply about whether or not I'm fucking up my son the same way my parents fucked me up as a kid, but it's moments like this that make it all rewarding. I hope he doesn't get his heart broken, but that's part and parcel for the world of romance. Hopefully, I gave him the tools to not be a fucking socially inept dingus like I was back then.